


Heat Inclined

by Agent_24



Series: ShinDrift Week [3]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_24/pseuds/Agent_24
Summary: The Traveler can't seem to mind its own business.For ShinDrift Week Day 3: Warm/Cold





	Heat Inclined

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I'm late

Shin is off planet when it happens, sleeping off a mission on Mars where a Hive brood had gotten a bit too proactive for his liking. He startles awake and wrangles his Light under control before he can accidentally set his cot on fire, and Jaren’s Ghost immediately surfaces and starts scanning him. 

“Another energy pulse from the Traveler,” it says. “Solar, this time.” 

Shin grins and feels strong enough to burn the whole world to the ground. 

Eager to test his new limits, he flies to the Tower and leaps into a Crucible match. Solar users are, naturally, going fucking ham. Shin only feels a little bad for those more inclined towards Arc and Void, but...well. Arc had its turn, and Shin, admittedly, is having a grand ol’ time building his super in under two minutes. 

His kill count is enormous by the time he leaves, sweaty in his armor, and his account stuffed with Glimmer (Shaxx, of course, had been more than pleased to have him schooling rookies and vets alike). And because he is in a good mood, he visits the Annex. This is where he finds Drifter muttering and cursing and trying in vain to put out his hands. 

Shin raps his knuckles on the closed gate, locked tight for reasons Shin assumes are related to Drifter’s predicament. The man in question jumps, the fire in his hands flaring bright. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Drifter spits, stalking over to let him in. 

“You doin’ alright?” Shin asks, and he doesn’t quite mean to sound so terribly entertained, but it comes out that way. 

“Do I look okay to you?” Drifter snaps. “I hate this shit.” 

Shin reigns in his amusement as best he can as he transmats his helmet away. The Annex room is, put simply, a disaster; Drifter’s gloves are a melted heap on the floor, ash coats the table where hand-drawn gun blueprints once were, Drifter’s ceramic coffee mug is in pieces, and there’s hand prints burned into the metal railing. Drifter’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows to keep them out of the way, and his cheeks are flushed with heat. 

Shin bites his lip. “So you do have an affinity for Solar,” he muses. 

“This isn’t funny, Malphur!” 

Shin raises his hands placatingly. “Alright, I’m not laughing.” He pauses, then asks, “You really been setting things on fire all day?” 

Drifter glares at him. 

“I’m not making fun,” Shin promises, “I swear.” 

Drifter’s mean look simmers down to a frustrated scowl. “I’m just not — fuck!” His hands ignite again, just briefly before he squeezes his fists shut, and the flames go out with a little hiss of protest. “I like keepin’ my Light low profile. I’m not used to handling this goddamn much of it.” 

Shin folds his arms and leans against the table. “Nobody is,” he points out. 

“You know what I mean!” Drifter snaps. “I use Light when I’ve got to, not to show off in the Crucible for _ funsies.” _

Shin blinks at him. A slow smile creeps over his mouth. “You were watching me?” 

Drifter stills like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t, then flushes and says, “I only had my Ghost check the roster to make sure you weren’t out causin’ me trouble.” 

“I don’t use ‘Shin Malphur’ on Crucible rosters,” Shin says, voice thick with underlying laughter. Drifter starts to sputter out an answer, but Shin interrupts, “Or the Renegade. Don’t use Vale or Orsa there nowadays, either.” 

Drifter’s cheeks look like they’re burning. He clenches his fists tighter, sparks at his fingertips, then says, “Yeah, I know.  _ Riley.” _

Shin snorts. Part of him (a big part) wants to tease him a little more, but...well. “What gave me away?” he asks instead. 

“I’ve seen you fight before, jackass,” Drifter mutters, glancing away. 

Shin tries not to look too obviously pleased about Drifter recognizing the way he moves. Considering how Drifter just seems to look more embarrassed by the second, he’s not sure he’s very successful. He pushes off the table and steps closer, holding out a hand for Drifter to take. 

Drifter stares at him. “What?”

“Let me help,” Shin offers. 

Drifter wraps one hand around the other and holds them close to his chest, like he thinks Shin might cut them right off. “How’re you gonna help me with this?” he demands. 

Shin keeps his hand out patiently. “Make orbs of Light for me,” he says. “I’ll take the excess.” 

“You’re gonna —” Drifter repeats, then takes a step back. “You nuts? Like you need anymore Light than you got.” 

What he really means, Shin suspects, is that burning him to a crisp is easy enough as it is for the Man with the Golden Gun, which admittedly is disappointing. Shin presses his lips together and exhales, letting his shoulders slump a little, then tries again, “It’s just gonna be worse for you if you let it build up. I’ll go on patrol right after, put it to use.” 

Drifter hesitates. 

Shin holds his hand out a little further and tilts his chin down. 

Drifter’s brows knit, and he lets out a frustrated huff of air. “Fine,” he relents, holding out his own hand in return. “Make it fast,” he adds quietly. 

Shin doesn’t ever make a big deal out of small moments like these, where he gets Drifter to put a little faith in him, so he doesn’t now, either. And maybe his heart always feels fit to burst with it, but he won’t mention that, won’t ruin it all by saying it out loud. He takes Drifter’s hand in his, then reaches down to take the other too. “Go ahead.” 

Drifter looks very much like he wants to squirm between the way his shoulders tense up and his eyes flit over Shin’s hands. His mouth twists into a displeased (nervous) frown even as he channels Light outward. Shin thinks about planting a kiss at the edge of his lips. 

Light pools in Drifter’s palms in a neat little orb. Shin drinks it up, perhaps too eagerly, and the first taste of it leaves him just a little bit breathless. He’s had Drifter’s Light before, back when he was just the Renegade and Drifter was little more than what Shin had daydreamed Hope to be, back when they had cleared Gambit arenas together and everything had, for a time, been simple. But this is just different enough to leave him speechless for a moment; this is Drifter’s Light stronger and more raw than it’s ever been, even as it’s tinged with the inky flavor of Darkness. 

“What are you doing?” Drifter demands, startled. 

“Nothing,” Shin murmurs, bringing one of Drifter’s hands up to cup his cheek. He leans into it, feels a little pulse of Light against his jaw, then closes his eyes and presses a kiss to Drifter’s wrist. 

When he looks up again, Drifter’s cheeks are flushed red again, his brows knitted and his shoulders stiff. 

“You good?” Shin asks. 

“...Think so,” Drifter says, perhaps a little high pitched. After a missed beat, he says, “You’re a little...uh…” 

Warm. Shin feels too hot in all his clothes. Drifter’s touch feels cool against his skin. He wants to kiss him. He also maybe wants to explode. 

“I’m fine,” Shin says. 

“You sure?” 

“Sure.” 

“You look —” 

“I’m gonna go,” Shin says abruptly. 

Drifter blinks, mouth open still. “Okay.” 

“I’ll be back later,” Shin rushes to say. He steps back, lets Drifter’s hands fall from his own. “You, uh…” 

“Hotpot,” Drifter says dumbly. “Yeah.” 

“Alright,” Shin says with a quick nod, then transmats out. 

The EDZ is close by, so Shin flies there, managing to keep all the Light sealed up in his chest till he makes it to the ground. He finds a little cave and cleans out the Fallen inside before sitting down to allow himself a moment. 

Drifter’s Light still keeps him too warm. Shin draws his knees up to his chest like that will keep it from burning away a little longer, hides his face in his arms and breathes. 


End file.
